The Worst Idea He Ever Had
by sparkstoaflame
Summary: "I wish we weren't in the dark, so you'd notice that I'm scowling at you."—"Shut up, Elsa."—"I wish I had paper and a pencil in front of me, so I could write a book about your exploits and call this chapter 'The Worst Idea He Ever Had.'"—"Fine. I'm not giving you chocolate." In other words, Elsa discovers migraines. / elsa, hans "friendly bonding times" — au modern-era
1. i - v

**author's note** | i don't know where this came from, i don't even ship the two of them ;_; mainly just for humor practice, i guess? i'm not a very humorous person ^^' a shitdump of ooc drabbles, in any case. basically my friend bounced prompts off of me and i wrote whatever came to mind.

**it should also be noted that *most* of these drabbles are non-linear.**

**i am open for prompts**. i will _probably_ do anything short of smut. :p

* * *

**the worst idea he ever had**

"I wish we weren't in the dark, so you'd notice that I'm scowling at you."—"Shut up, Elsa."—"I wish I had paper and a pencil in front of me, so I could write a book about your exploits and call this chapter 'The Worst Idea He Ever Had.'"—"Fine. I'm not giving you chocolate." In other words, Elsa discovers migraines. / _elsa, hans "friendly bonding times"_ — _au modern-era_

* * *

_prompt i:_ chocolate

(**i.** the problem being he thought she didn't like chocolate)

.

"So?" Han's sugar-coated voice came drifting across the tiny room. "What do you think of our new..._quarters?"_

Elsa only buried her head in her hands and tried not to let herself wring Hans's neck.

They were locked in a broom closet in the middle of the night.

They were locked in a _fucking broom closet_ in the _middle of the fucking night._ She didn't know how Hans had dragged her into this one—didn't _remember_ how—and frankly didn't _want_ to know why.

"Elsa?"

"I wish I had never met you," came a muffled reply, "so I don't have to deal with the collateral damage your antics cause every time we cross paths."

"...Shut up, Elsa."

"I wish we weren't in the dark," Elsa irritably continued, "so you'd notice that I am scowling at you right now."

"Shut up, Elsa."

"I wish I had paper and a pencil in front of me, so I could write a book about your nefarious exploits, and call this chapter 'The Worst Idea He Ever Had.'"

"If you don't shut up right now, Elsa, I'm not giving you any chocolate."

"You don't even have chocolate."

The sound of snapping candy filled the air, and something that smelled...astonishingly _delicious_ was being waved underneath her nose.

Elsa instinctively drew away anyway.

"Jesus, woman, how can you not like _chocolate?"_

"...Did you just say that I didn't like chocolate?"

"You don't want my chocolate bar, therefore, you don't like chocolate."

"That's an invalid premise and a completely incorrect conclusion. Did you _fail_ Mathematical Logic or something?"

_"_Really, Elsa? I don't see how this situation has anything to do with math class."

Instead, Elsa snatched the Hershey's bar away from him and tried to make a run for it.

She smacked right into the closet door and cracked her head instead.

Hans's sarcastic voice filled the air. "Going somewhere, Elsa?"

Elsa slowly peeled her face from off the wall, _"Shut up, Hans."_

She still couldn't see anything, but she could practically hear the leer in his voice when he answered, "Lips sealed."

* * *

_prompt ii:_ drunk

(**ii.** a matter of love in its weirdest form)

.

There was never anything _between_ her and Hans, of course. Sort-of-friends-slash-archenemies was more like it. It didn't help that last week, Hans had showed up at her apartment oozing of marijuana and cheap booze.

A drunk Hans had never been and never would be a sight for sore eyes.

"Elsa!" he had cried, throwing the entirety of his body into a revolted Elsa's arms and clinging to her like a kindergartener too scared to go to school. "Oh, Elsa! My love, my _darling,_ my other half..."

He sounded like a lovesick prince out of a really moronic fairy tale, and Elsa practically had to peel him off her chest to push him a good couple of feet away from her.

"You're drunk, Hans," she sighed, trying to rebuff his staggered advances. "And...what is the purpose of this, exactly?"

"Ooh, it's only because you're the _best,_ Elsa."

She rolled her eyes, sidestepping past him before heaving him up, "Yes, Hans, I know that."

It wasn't the first time that this happened, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.

(Sometimes, Elsa wondered vaguely whether or not Hans was really just talking drunk or he actually meant what he said.)

* * *

_prompt iii:_ beginning

(**iii.** and that time when it all began)

.

It was on a Wednesday, in the early throes of morning, when all the trouble started.

"Help me," Kristoff squeaked in a very un-manly tone of voice.

Anna looked around, spotted the irregularity, and leaped back into a bleary-eyed Elsa's arms—"Hans?" She wasn't that sure.

Hans glanced up. "Hi. By the way, you're out of facial scrub."

"Why are you _here?"_ Anna choked out.

"Why is who here?" Elsa yawned hugely.

"I've decided to atone for my extremely _shameful_ acts in the past," Hans announced dramatically, pressing a hand into his chest, "and show you what a good person I can actually be." Giving an overly dramatic bow to Anna—"I really do hope we can remain as friends—"

Elsa's eyes finally popped wide open at his voice—"Hans? Is that—?"

Hans looked down at his body, and then up again at her before stating in a very confused tone of voice, _"Yes,_ it is me."

"Are you sure?" Anna whispered loudly.

Elsa glared at the healing bruise on Hans's forehead.

"I just checked!"

Then Anna, in a most uncharacteristic manner, deadpanned, _"Why."_

Elsa pinched herself hard enough on the forearm to leave a bruise, and waited carefully for a few seconds before opening one brilliantly blue eye.

Against all odds, the world was still precisely the same as when she had left it.

Then Elsa prayed loudly to whatever higher being lived above her, "...Strike me down here. Now."

* * *

_prompt iv:_ disembowelment

(**i****v.** would just like you to disembowel yourself thanks)

.

Elsa was making a painfully obvious attempt to act civil around him.

"Who let you into the apartment, exactly?" she asked in a terribly strained tone.

"Your attempt to procure a winning smile is very disturbing," Hans said, winningly smiling at Elsa.

This, of course, wiped the grimace straight off of her face (which was probably for the better, anyway). "...Just...answer the damn question..."

Hans wiggled his eyebrows and hitched even more dazzle and sparkle onto the white beam spread across his face. "Kristoff."

Anna turned and glared death at the wall which Kristoff was pressed flat against.

"Didn't mean to!" the wall shouted in fear.

Elsa massaged her temples and addressed Hans, "Please get out."

"Absolutely." Hans gave her a charming smile. "Provided that you come with me."

_"Excuse me?!"_ Elsa blurted out, and then shook her head. "I mean—wait, no—what the hell kind of request is that?

"Now, come on, don't be that way." He grinned ever the more widely at her, if that was even possible. "I'll _share."_

Elsa turned even more deathly pale than she already was, "Are you trying to imply anything?"

"Not at all."

"..."

Hans only grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out the door.

"Are you trying to kidnap me? This could be considered a kidnapping."

"But I'm not kidnapping you."

She sighed in exasperation. "What do you want? For me to commit _seppuku?_ No, strike that; it would be much more appropriate for you to do so." She brightened considerably. "It's a perfect fit, actually!"

Hans stopped short and wrinkled his nose. _"Seppuku?_ What is that? Some sort of ghastly hair conditioner?"

"No, it's a form of ritualized suicide that the Japanese samurai would commit to atone for _particularly shameful acts."_

The last five words rang through the air.

Hans coughed into his hand, "...Point taken."

* * *

_prompt v:_ bottles

(**v****.** the broken bottles were all that stupid bartender worried about)

.

Really, it wasn't Elsa's fault _at all_ that Hans was passed out on the ground of the bar in front of her. It was sheer luck that she found him here, and the bastard brought that negligible part wherein she smashed only about eight bottles of beer on his head upon himself. Apparently, he had cheated on Anna with some other girl—Elsa didn't really know the fine details, but she certainly knew precisely how the aftermath of that break-up went. She was, after all, left to deal with the ensuing destruction—which was actually _quite_ extensive—and was also left to conduct damage control—which was actually _very_ annoying.

"You broke eight glasses over his head!" the bartender bawled, his eyes popping and fists shaking. _"Eight!"_

Elsa sniffed; poked Hans with a toe and then said in a not-very-concerned tone, "Well...I'm sure he'll come around...soon enough..."

Then she faltered at the wild look in the bartender's watery gray eyes, and began sprouting a whole new fountain of excuses.

The alcohol she had just ingested a few minutes prior was not helping her case at all.

_"Eight glasses!"_ came the shriek once more, and Elsa had to resist the urge to cover her ears, "I should have you _arrested!"_

_Shit._

"Um," Elsa breathed, blue eyes round and pleading even as she pawed at her wallet, "please just take my money."

* * *

(**tbc**)


	2. vi - x

**author's note** | i hate myself.

(and thank you all for the reviews, favs, and follows.)

* * *

**the worst idea he ever had**

"I wish we weren't in the dark, so you'd notice that I'm scowling at you."—"Shut up, Elsa."—"I wish I had paper and a pencil in front of me, so I could write a book about your exploits and call this chapter 'The Worst Idea He Ever Had.'"—"Fine. I'm not giving you chocolate." In other words, Elsa discovers migraines. / _elsa, hans "friendly bonding times"_ — _au modern-era_

* * *

_prompt vi:_ disclaimer

(**vi.** having a disclaimer taped to his head would really help)

.

"Your ideas need to have one of those car disclaimers attached to them," Elsa blandly said, flicking a few bangs from where they were hanging teasingly over her eyes. "'Do not attempt to do this at home.'"

"I don't see," Hans said in a very supreme and very haughty tone of voice that was more akin to his natural personality than his façade of sunshine and rainbows was, "how going shopping for food at Costco requires a car disclaimer to be attached to its forefront."

Elsa's lips pressed together into an impossibly thin line, but she didn't say anything to contradict his statement.

"Besides!" and Hans considerably brightened, "I'm still trying to prove how great of a human being I can really be."

"Disembowel yourself and I may just consider it."

"How about this," Hans leered, "I'll buy you anything you want on this trip. What do you say, hmm? Don't all women love to shop?"

Elsa frowned darkly at him. "You are mistaking me for Anna, and I wish you would not be so quick to stereotype against me..." _What's there of interest to buy in a fucking Costco, anyway?_

Then her eyes landed upon the books section.

And a small smile crept across her face.

"Well...yes, actually," she said quietly. "That sounds nice."

* * *

_prompt vii:_ food

(**v****ii.** does he seriously not know what a fucking drive-thru is)

.

"So...you're telling me that I can just drive up to the window and get food?"

Elsa glanced at Hans, who was peering out the windshield at the little black box approaching in front of them as if it was taboo.

"Yep," she slowly said, "you just go up to the little speaker and tell them what you want. Then you drive up to the window and pick up your food." Elsa drummed her fingers against the steering wheel while she and Hans waited for the cars in front of them to finish ordering.

"So is it a robot?" Hans asked cluelessly.

"...What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Well you just told me that the speaker thing makes the food for us. So...is it a robot?"

"..."

"Well?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just having a hard time grasping the fact that an individual who is headed off to an Ivy League college can possibly be this stupid."

"Well, excuse me for not knowing something. They don't exactly have drive-thru robots from where I came."

Elsa resisted the urge to palm her face. "Have you never been to McDonald's before?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Why would I want to associate myself with such a greasy place?"

"There are people inside the restaurant who cook the food. Oh, come on, Hans, you eat at that fried chicken place all the time, you should know this. You're talking to me about 'too greasy?'"

"Yeah, but that place didn't have a drive-thru with a robot that takes your order."

"It's not a—"

"If it's not a robot, why does the voice coming out of the speakers sound robotic? And why aren't any of these people worried about it?"

"Oh, for the love of—" Elsa slammed her foot onto the ground in frustration, accidentally hit the accelerator, and then remembered that she was driving the car and narrowly avoided smashing into the black sedan in front of her and dying in a fiery explosion.

She turned back to Hans. "Yes, Hans, it's a robot that takes your order."

"Called it. So what does this...," Hans took a moment to read the sign on top of the menu screen, "'McDonald's' serve, exactly?"

"McDonald's sells hamburgers and stuff."

Hans scrunched up his nose at Elsa's answer. "The fuck is that?"

"..."

"What?" Hans irritably snapped.

Elsa swallowed.

"Are you secretly three years old or something?" she slowly asked.

"No. Why in the world would you say that?"

_God save me._

* * *

_prompt viii:_ shopping

(**v****iii.** on second thought maybe this wasn't such a good idea)

.

Fucking Elsa.

_Motherfucking Elsa._

Hans promised himself that he would never offer to do her any good deed again.

Elsa never made things easy. In fact, she was making things difficult for Hans right now. At the moment, _motherfucking Elsa_ was standing on the other side of the cash register, swinging a blue umbrella around and almost punching the poor saleslady in the nose. Ever since they entered the fucking store, that damned grin never left her face.

And so here Hans was, in Costco, waiting in line with a basket full of _things_ Elsa so desperately needed. By this point, he just wanted to get in and out of the store as soon as humanly possible.

Unfortunately, the man in front of him was holding up the line with a fat stack of coupons. And after a couple of minutes, Hans had finally had enough.

"Sir," Hans snapped, "do you really need to save twenty cents on that fucking apple juice?"

"Hey, screw you!" The man looked down into Hans's basket. "You act like what you're buying is so...important..."

The man's voice trailed off as he examined the contents of Hans's basket.

A few seconds of silence passed, before the man smirked at him.

"...You know what? Forget the coupons. It's obvious _you're_ in a hurry."

The cashier rang up the man's items, and the little bastard raised his eyebrows at Hans on his way out. "You have a _wonderful_ evening, sir."

"Hmm...that's weird." The cashier was examining Hans's purchases. "The price tag on all of these items have been scratched off. I need to do a price check."

Hans blanched.

He was stupid for not double-checking the items Elsa put in the basket. A total idiot.

_Always making shit difficult._

_Motherfucking Elsa_ was clearly trying not to die from laughter.

Hans prayed silently for her to die a long and painful death.

* * *

_prompt ix:_ humiliation

(**ix****.** mother. fucking. elsa)

.

This was, frankly, getting ridiculous.

Hans's face started to turn red from embarrassment as the cashier coughed awkwardly to hide her smile and the couple behind him stared at himknowingly while trying to suppress their laughter.

"You find everything okay, sir?"

"I did," Hans ground out. "I had a lot of help from my _friend_ here."

Elsa quirked an eyebrow and Hans had to resist to urge to throttle her.

_Motherfucking Elsa._

"Jack! Hey, Jack, get over here!" the woman shouted to a man restocking Tic-Tacs about six registers over. Instead of walking over so they could continue their conversation at an acceptable volume, the man yelled back from where he was standing.

_"What do you want?!"_

Hans was ready to melt into the ground and never be seen again.

They were really going to do this to him. In front of _everybody._

"I need you to do a price check on a few things!"

_"Like what?!"_

"Two peach-scented candles, a six pack of strawberry-kiwi wine coolers, the 'Fifty Shades of Grey' book, one container of Vaseline, and..." The cashier paused to count out the last items. "Three cucumbers!"

Hans tried very hard not to start crying.

* * *

_prompt x:_ date

(**x****.** by this point the bitch deserves it)

.

And by this point, Elsa couldn't hold it in any longer. She laughed mercilessly, bent over almost double, as everyone in line stared at Hans.

If Anna were here right now, Hans wouldn't do something as cliché as asking her to bury him alive. No, he would end the shit quickly by having her drive a stalagmite through his eye socket.

_Or are they called stalactites?_

_Did Anna even know what stalactites were?_ Hans made a mental note to ask her if she had the faintest clue what calcium carbonate was the next time he saw her.

_"What was the name of that book again?!"_ Jack hollored again, tearing Hans out of his thoughts of self-mutilation.

The cashier cupped her hands around her mouth so she could amplify her voice. _"FIFTY SHADES OF GREY!"_

_You know what? Fuck Anna and the stalactites. It would be a lot easier if I walked over to the hardware section and brained myself with the claw end of a hammer._

"Okay. Be back in a bit!"

To everyone else in line, "a bit" was three minutes of impatient groaning. To Hans, "a bit" felt like two hours of social suicide. While he was contemplating whether or not he had enough cash on him to buy a hammer as well, Jack finally returned with a slip of paper. The cashier looked at the paper and typed the item prices into her register before she finally looked up and smiled at Hans.

"That will be thirty-seven dollars and eighty-three cents, sir."

Hans practically threw his money at the cashier and waited impatiently while she printed out the receipt and gave him his change. Now that his suffering was finally over, he stomped over to Elsa and shoved the bag into her arms while the blonde, with a very red face, appeared to be in her last death throes upon the ground.

"So, Hans," she gasped, eyes still shining with mirth, "...What did you learn?"

"That you are _literally_ an asshole?"

"Nice try, but no. What did you really learn?"

Hans pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I am never offering to buy you anything again."

"Well...you know, I had a lot of fun shopping with you today, so we should do it again sometime. I heard there was this little shop around the block that sells 'marital aides'."

A smirk was starting to spread across her face again.

_Okay. That's it._

Hans had enough of this. If he was going to die of mortification in the middle of fucking Costco, of all places, then there was no way in hell he was going down alone. He laid a gentle hand on Elsa's cheek and gave her an grin that practically dripped with evil.

He wanted everyone to hear what she had to say next.

"C'mon, sweetie, let's hurry up and head home. We don't want to be late for _date night_ again!"

Elsa's grin transformed into a look of naked disgust and horror as a few customers whistled and shouted catcalls at the them. Hans pried the umbrella from the stunned blonde's hand and sauntered out into the wet parking lot. He didn't bother waiting for Elsa as he opened the umbrella and walked toward the car. That demon could walk home for all he cared.

It's not like the bitch didn't deserve it.

* * *

(**tbc**)


End file.
